


Few Words; Substantial Meaning

by Sans_Virtuosity



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: But I will go down with this ship, Companions meaning a lot to Fenris, F/M, Fenris being adorable, Gen, Hawke teaching Fenris how to write (although barely), I totally didn't edit this one, One-Shot, Perhaps two-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Virtuosity/pseuds/Sans_Virtuosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris practices writing at the Hawke Estate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Few Words; Substantial Meaning

**Author's Note:**

> On a whim I opened up my word processor, and this is what resulted.  
> Just going to leave this here and back away slowly.

 

She had left the book with him, in the end. After he told her of his inadequacy; his inability to read, Hawke insisted that he could still learn if given the chance. The woman was stubborn, and wouldn't leave the mansion until he agreed to join her for lessons.

These went as expected: he was frustrated and insecure, and often took out his anger on Hawke, who, despite her backcountry upbringing, turned out to be a marvelous teacher. She was firm, but patient. And always knew when to call off the lessons in favor of a few drinks from the Amell family's famed collection of vintage wines.

This method suited him just fine, he decided.

 

* * *

 

Fenris leaned over the writing desk and scribbled away at the parchment set up for him. It was another day of writing lessons at the Hawke estate, and his teacher lay on the four-poster bed behind him and barked orders. He wouldn't begrudge her this, as, despite how uncomfortable it made him, it did serve as adequate motivation.

The quill in his hand still felt so strange, and the swooping letters still required an active effort to recall and reproduce. He had no idea how they would connect to form words, but he was pleased to have even this much over his former self.

After he filled two pages with the foreign alphabet, Hawke came over and gave him new orders.

“Here,” she said as she took the quill from him and scribbled a few words at the top of the page “Can you sound these out?”

Fenris ran the letters through his mind a few times to get a rough outline of what he would be saying. It was embarrassing, stumbling around with something most young children have a firm grasp on. Eventually he took a deep breath and began to sound out each letter with the utmost care.

“F... Fen...” he looked up at Hawke, who was now leaning on the desk, with her arms crossed and a small smile upturning her lips. “Is this my name?”

Hawke nodded and motioned for him to continue. He burned the quasi-foreign word into his mind. This was his name. Fenris. He studied the scrawling script with renewed purpose and began on the next word.

Eventually he made out every word on the top of the page. They were all the names of Hawke's merry band of misfits. _Fenris, Hawke, Aveline, Merrill, Anders, Varric, Isabela, Sebastian._

“It's useful to know, in case you ever need to get our attention discreetly. A courier with a note is much less obvious than a glowing elf with a large sword.” Hawke pointed out. “You should copy these until the 'flow' of each word becomes second nature.”

With that, Hakwe returned to her spot on the bed, and curled up for a nap. He couldn't blame her, last night's mission at the docks lasted far longer than he had expected. When he insisted that his writing lessons could be delayed a day, Hawke waved him off and said she'd be ready for his arrival at noon. She was always insistent like that. Though _incessant_ seemed more fitting.

 

Again Fenris returned his attention to the names in front of him. That someone can be represented by such a simple arrangement of letters was astonishing, and Fenris briefly wondered what his life would've been like had he grown up outside of the Imperium.

That was something to, as Varric would say, _brood_ on some other day. For now, he dipped Hawke's quill into the inkpot and began learning the curves and lines of his name.

 

When he was satisfied that he could properly recall and replicate his name, he moved on to Hawke's. As he wrote, he began to question why she always insisted she be called by her surname. A sense of pride, perhaps? Not every family had a title, noble or otherwise. 'Hawke' was a good name; a fierce name. It would make sense to cherish it. He himself was merely “Fenris”.

 

Once he covered the entire page in his meticulous replications -and it took far longer than he would ever admit-, he looked up to see Hawke leaning over him again, with gently mussed hair and a sheepish grin. He handed her the page for closer inspection and watched as she looked over his handiwork.

She 'hmm'-ed and 'heh'-ed quite a few times over the course of the paper's scrutiny, and he began to fidget. His handwriting seemed so much more cramped than her looping scrawl; perhaps it was illegible.

Hawke chuckled and turned the paper over to face him. “It looks as though you're a Hawke. You left such a gap after the row of my name.”

When he spotted his mistake, he reddened all the way up to the tips of his ears. There _was_ a larger gap between the line of Hawke and the continuing lines of their other companions'; It looked as though he had been signing off 'Fenris Hawke' on a good portion of the paper.

“It seems I've missed my own wedding! Ah, what will mother think!” Hawke straightened herself into a passing Leandra imitation, “My darling girl! Getting married to an elf! With not even the decency to show up to the ceremony! Oh maker, what will the neighbors say?”

Fenris stood up and motioned towards the paper. “That was not my intention, I assure you.” He made to retrieve his gauntlets, to escape this woman and her incessant mocking, but Hawke caught his wrist just as his fingertips brushed against the metal.

“I'm teasing, Fenris.”

“I'm aware.”

Hawke released his arm, and he wordlessly donned his armor. Hawke stepped back and walked over to her bed for the third time that night –not that he was counting-, and leaned against one of the wooden posts.

As he began to walk out of the room, Hawke held out the vellum containing the offending scribbles, and he collected it without looking up at her.

When he reached the bedroom door, he paused. He was being unreasonable again. It shamed him to think that he was running away simply because her teasing made him uncomfortable.

_Fenris Hawke_.

Without turning around, he took a deep breath and said “Thank you. For tonight. I do not mean to appear ungrateful.”

He could practically feel Hawke waving her hand in dismissal. “It looked good, you know.”

His heart fluttered in his chest. _She couldn't have possibly meant--_

“The handwriting. It was a lot better than mine when I first started out.”

Not the surname. He almost breathed a sigh of relief -or was it disappointment?- before he tersely nodded and left the room, and the Hawke estate proper.

 

* * *

 

When he arrived at his neglected, creaking mansion, he stuffed the paper in a small chest by his bedside, along with his other worldly possessions. For the very first time, he had tangible proof of his freedom; this little page full of nothing more than a few words.

A few words that captured the essence of an entire city.  

 

 


End file.
